Unforgivable sinner
by Nadin4400
Summary: Starts during TOMS. Was Rufus a friend or a foe? Was it just luck that Dean found Bela or was it what she wanted him to do? Dean and Bela go to get the Colt back and save themselves. Dean/Bela fic, romance included. UPDATE 08/12/08! Now COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Unforgivable sinner

**Summary**: Dean finds out the truth about Bela's past and decides to help her no matter what. Not that she's ready to accept that help but...

The story starts during "Time is on my side".

**Spoilers**: Season 3, mainly 3.15 "Time is on my side".

**Characters:** Dean, Sam and Bela, plus I decided to develop a bit the character of a mysterious hunter Rufus

**Disclaimer**: If they were mine… I wouldn't waste my time on fanfics :)

**Note**: I was inspired by Cher's "If I could turn back time" and "Show me the meaning" by Backstreet Boys. Both are old songs and yet so fitting. Well, I just like old songs! And the title is taken from "Unforgivable sinner" performed by Lene Marlin.

All mistakes are mine. Just believe that they were not made on purpose. And, well, I will probably leave this episode in peace some day, but for now it is my fav and also the one I hate the most because I don't like seeing Bela die. And I can't stand to think that she had to die with Dean hating her because of that terrible lie that she said.

**Chapter 1**

_You've been walking around in tears  
No answers are there to get  
You won't ever be the same  
Someone cries and you're to blame_

Struggling with a fight inside  
Sorrow you'll defeat  
The picture you see it won't disappear  
Not unpleasant dreams or her voice you hear

_"Unforgivable sinner" by Lene Marlin_

Dean was driving down the motorway breaking all possible rules on the way. The speed of the Impala was at least twice higher than it was permitted but he didn't care, not a single bit.

Damn bloody bitch ruined everything! All the prices he'd paid, all the sacrifices he'd made, everything he'd been fighting for was – _poof!_ – gone! Bela sold the Colt just like he thought she would. Of course she did! Why wouldn't she? But he hoped – Jesus, he even prayed on the way to her motel – that she had an actual heart somewhere under that ice-covered piece of stone in her chest. Wasn't too much surprised when it turned out that she didn't, though.

It was his only fucking chance!

"Damn it!" Dean hit his fist on the steering wheel in utter outrage and sped up.

Now they were left absolutely helpless, defenseless… All because of Bela! Ruby's knife, no matter how awesome it was, was of no use against the whole freaking army of demons, unless they had a collection of such stuff, which they had not, and that was what really mattered.

Wished he'd shot her right there and then. Of course it would not give him back the Colt but, God, it would at least be such a pleasure! But the bitch was going to pay the price and that would be a higher price than a simple bullet in a head, which she deserved, of course, but it would be way too easy after what she'd done.

Dean threw a sidelong glance at the folder with Bela's file that Rufus gave him. Absolutely unexpected part of her life, he had to admit with a chuckle. She had more dark spots in her past than he could have imagined. Cooking up a car accident was one thing, and that thing would not surprise Dean, not really. But selling her own soul for the inheritance at the age of 14 was something totally different. It was horrible, even for him, even after all he'd seen in his life. Turned out he wasn't that far from the truth when he called Bela Talbot _damaged_. Only not exactly the way he meant but … Oh, God!

Anger boiled in Dean's veins. It was mostly anger at himself and his own inability to do something, to help Sammy, to save himself from eternal damnation. And right at the moment the speed of the Impala was the only thing that kept Dean focused and occupied, made him concentrate on the road, otherwise he's probably kill someone for real.

Phone call caught him on one of the abrupt turns of the motorway. He snatched his mobile from the dashboard and bellowed without even looking at the caller ID:

"What?!"

"Nice to hear you too, Dean," a familiar voice hemmed on the other end of the line.

"Bobby." He took a deep breath to calm himself down feeling both guilty for shouting like that and irritated with the interruption of the train of his thought at the same time. "Sorry, I just… I'm just a little pissed off, that's it."

Bobby coughed.

"I'm happy it's not your permanent state! Did you find Rufus?"

"Yeah. Nice guy! And very positive, too! Haven't met such an optimist for a damn while already."

Bobby ignored his sarcasm.

"So?"

"So we had a long and informative conversation. And yes, I found Bela, if that's what you're asking about."

"And?"

Dean could picturesque almost in every detail how Bobby frowned and held his breath waiting for his response.

"And? There's no _and_, Bobby! Couldn't be! Do you think she was waiting for me to come? Quite on contrary! And what's most important - the bitch sold the Colt, probably the next moment she laid her greedy hands on it!" He had to grit his teeth not to growl. "The Colt is who knows where, can be in Tibet or elsewhere in any other part of the world, and we're freaking out of time to try and track it down." _Only three bloody weeks left!_ And what – _planes_?!

Bobby sighed in disappointment and Dean suddenly felt his outrage fading away at the sound. If it wasn't for Bobby they'd still be nowhere in their search for Bela. And although Dean didn't like what he found out, knowing something was anyway better than knowing nothing at all. The least he could and should do was vent his anger upon an old friend.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Forget it, okay? We both knew it was a dead end, right?"

"Well, yeah, but… What about Bela?" Bobby asked with… was that _concern_? Gee!

"What about her?" Dean didn't even have to close his eyes to see Devil's shoestring so clearly with his inner sight as if it was right before him. Another turn on the road. Less than two hours left to drive. "Probably head over ears in her dirty business." Like she had much time left, he thought with somewhat satisfaction. "Did you know? About her."

A pause. "Yes." Another pause and a heavy sigh. Dean imagined Bobby shaking his head this time. "Poor girl."

Dean choked and stopped the car short, barely missing the telegraph pole at the roadside.

"Poor… what?! Poor girl?!" He repeated in disbelief, one hundred per cent sure he must have misunderstood what Bobby said. Had to suppress a childish urge to shake the telephone in case he was hearing this nonsense because of problems on the line or maybe even because something in his phone was transferring Bobby's words into something… something insane. "What the hell do you mean? Are we still talking about Bela or did I miss something?" Crazy day. "Bobby?" Dean called him by the name when the silence in the receiver became way too long, even took the phone away from his ear to look at the screen and check if Bobby hang up.

"She didn't tell you, did she?" Bobby asked suspiciously at last.

"Didn't tell me what exactly?" Dean closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose while counting to five. "Do you know something that I don't know?"

"Perhaps."

"Listen, Bobby, I'm kind of screwed up here, meaning _really_ screwed up. Besides, I have a tight deadline and Sam is out there all alone with that psycho doctor Frankenstein because stubborn jerk decided it was more important than finding the Colt saving the whole world. Not that he was wrong… anyway, if you have something interesting to tell me, please do!"

"She'd probably kill me…" Bobby muttered to himself.

--

Bela was in the middle of packing her stuff that Dean threw all over the room back to the suitcase, alongside with all her other things as she had no more reasons to stay in this motel any longer, when the door to her room suddenly opened without a knock. She paused for half a second, even caught her breath instinctively, but was immediately back to what she was doing. She didn't even have to look over her shoulder to know who came in.

"They have a lousy service for the price they charge," Rufus commented after a quick look around. The whole room looked like it was an epicenter of a tornado not so long ago.

Bela gave him a heavy glance but did not say anything.

"You were right, he came to me," Rufus continued. "I told him what you asked me to." He leaned against the door watching her sure movements. Hadn't he known her any better he'd probably never noticed that her fingers trembled slightly against her will and her knuckled were unnaturally white when she was folding her clothes before putting them into the suitcase.

"So I've noticed!" Bela gave out a short nervous laugh. "What do you think is this all about?" She gestured around the room, which was still quite a mess.

Rufus finally noticed a hole from the bullet in the door that somehow slipped his attention when he just came in, and whistled to himself.

"Did you talk?"

"It was a hell of a conversation, believe me!"

"I take it you didn't tell him the truth," Rufus sighed and shook his head in regret. She moved her shoulder as _take-it-whatever-you-want_. "What did you tell him, then?"

"Other side of the truth," Bela shrugged.

"Meaning - another lie?"

"Oh, please don't say it surprises you," she smirked. "Listen, I asked you to do me a favor and tell Dean Winchester what _I_ needed him to know, and I appreciate what you did because I needed him to find me." Bela tried not to sound irritated. She wasn't, not at Rufus anyway. "But that's it. I didn't ask for an advice or anything, did I?"

"You should have told him," his voice was somewhat reproachful.

"Why?" Bela finally straightened herself up and looked at him, dark determination in her eyes. "What for, Rufus? So he could laugh me in the face?" She inclined her head slightly to her shoulder, brows arched expressively, as if deciding whether to expect for an answer from him or better move on. Chose the later after all. "No, thank you very much! Maybe some other time." She threw a quick look at her watch. "Or some other life by the looks of it."

"He would have helped you," Rufus insisted.

"Dean? Dean Winchester? Help me? After… Oh, come on, it's not even funny, really! The last thing Dean would ever do is help me, and this is the only truth." She chuckled bitterly feeling her voice start to shake with emotions and had to pause for a moment to pull herself together. The image of Dean pointing a gun right at her head was still way too vivid in her memory.

"It's not right, Bela. You can trust people. Not everyone and now always. But you can. You shouldn't be on your own all the time." The words were so strange and so not _Rufus-like_ that Bela couldn't help but wonder if he believed in what he was saying himself.

Still, she mustered her best cat-like mocking smile. "For the one who has been in this business for so long you are too trustful, don't you think, Rufus? Losing your grip?"

His lips twisted into a wry grin.

"I know when I can trust my intuition."

"So do I. And right now my intuition tells me to save myself before it's too late, so excuse me…I have no time for idle chat at the moment."

Rufus looked at her gravely trying to understand whether her actions were a result of simple stubbornness or something else. Not exactly foolishness. Bela Talbot was anything but foolish, but her unwillingness to even try to rely on someone but herself even when there was no other way was driven to the verge of something very close to bathos of stupidity. Sometimes. Like now.

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever it takes to avoid hellfire." Her gaze was cold as ice and firm as steel.

"Okay," Rufus nodded not quite sure he wanted to understand what she meant. "Just… well, you know."

"Thank you."

Bela watched him leave and close the door soundlessly behind him, wished he slammed it instead. Then she sank heavily onto the corner of her bed when she felt that her legs could not keep her standing anymore. She felt so tired and weary, like a balloon that burst up all of a sudden. It was hard, harder than she thought. Maybe playing games with Rufus was the last thing she should have done, but Bela couldn't let herself abandon that role of _the bold and the bitchy _even for a while.

Rufus was wrong. Of course he was! How could he not be? It wasn't he who had that tremendous pleasure of looking at Dean Winchester when he had a gun at her head and utter determination to pull the trigger written across his face. And that was exactly what she expected to see because they both knew that this time she overstepped the border. Bela was one hundred per cent sure he'd do it and finish it all without a second thought. Had no idea what stopped him from shooting though. Especially after what she said… when she managed to suppress almost irresistible urge to confess.

But she couldn't tell him… simply couldn't make herself say these words out loud when he was looking at her like this. Okay, maybe he wouldn't laugh – which was a really serious _maybe_ – but jerk as he could be at times he definitely wasn't a mean and cruel jerk, and that was probably the only thing that she knew about Dean Winchester for sure. That and his bloody devotion to do his so-called _job_. Though Bela doubted he'd help her either, even assuming his stupid intention to save everyone around. He would never forgive her for what she'd done and no excuses would help.

That look in his eyes… It wasn't their usual lazy banter, the kind of _who is smarter here, anyway?_ It wasn't a game anymore and Dean wasn't simply pissed off like when she'd pinched that rabbit's foot or a damn pirate's hand from him and his brother. It was pure, burning and overwhelming hatred she saw, and in any other circumstances, say, had she been somebody else, or hadn't she had the door right behind, Bela would take a step back.

So, she made her choice. He hated her? Fine! Prefect! It was better this way. She'd rather die – which was now only a matter of hours if she failed, but who cared? – than let him see that other side of hers. The side that she kept well hidden and locked for years. The side that she dared to reveal – just a little – when she met Dean Winchester because as terrible as it was but she _did_ care. And for some time she even thought – _seriously believed_ – it was her second chance.

And yet again it was a big _ha!_ Like a ticket for a runaway train.

Now he was gone and she was alone once again, just like always. But it didn't mean that she was going to give up and stop trying to win. That was what she'd been doing her entire life – taking care of herself. That was what she was going to do for the rest of her life, too, no matter how quickly her time was running out.

She knew what she had to do. They told her to find them both, Dean and Sam. And now she had to kill the later… She still had a chance to break that deal and God damn her if she didn't at least try.

--

It took Dean forty minutes to get back to Bela's motel and half a minute more to sneak into her room.

He wasn't really surprised to find it empty, though. Bela's stuff was gone, as well as she. And, yes, Dean hadn't seen her sleek silver car on the parking lot where he'd left the Impala.

He checked the drawers of the bedside tables and the wardrobe anyway only to find a silk scarf in the corner on the later, most likely forgotten by accident. Considering that it took her not more than an hour to leave the place after his visit, Bela definitely was in a hurry.

Dean felt panic growing inside of him – not to mention that awful guilt he was trying to suppress. Where on Earth could she possibly go? Another motel? Another town? Another…

He froze on the spot and the quickly reached into his pocket only to find the keys from the Impala in there. No motel receipt that he'd put there automatically after check-in. Of course he felt Bela's hand when she was taking the damn piece of paper! He just didn't care much about it then. Only thought in the back of his mind that she was losing her grip – using old name for registration, letting him feel her fingers in his pocket… The mistakes she'd never let happen before. Unless…

Sudden realization made chill run down Dean's spine.

He looked up. _Devil's shoestring_ was still tucked above the door. Bela either had the whole lot of that stuff or… Dean cut himself off, didn't want to even start thinking that way. Still couldn't believe he let her fool him so easily; should have known better than believing every word she was saying. Bela Talbot couldn't tell the truth even in a matter of life and death, he thought with irritation and slammed the door.

--

Bela was driving down the highway on top speed, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. So loud that she could barely hear anything else around. A gun that she kept hidden under the mattress and that Dean luckily didn't find lay on the passenger's seat wrapped in a towel.

_How could it end like this_, she wondered for what seemed a millionth time already. How could it be happening to _her_? She was a baddie, true, but at least she was honest enough to never deny it. She was a thief, too. A _great_ thief, like she once said. A great thief capable of doing pretty much everything for money. Not that she _really_ needed it, but it was fun, always had been. Like some kind of sport. She needed to win. Bela Talbot was no loser. But she was no murderer, too! Aside from that single episode that turned her life upside down and literary made her become what she was now.

A vicious circle, Bela thought bitterly. Once again she had to kill somebody in order to survive. But how could she? That determination she had when leaving her room seemed to be fading quickly.

Hot lump began to form in her throat and her eyes started to burn and Bela had to clutch on the steering wheel tighter and to blink several times. Dean bloody Winchester! If she didn't need to run into him, no way she would agree to look into his eyes ever again.

Bela turned from the highway to the side road and this was when something black rushed past her can with lightning speed cutting in on her and forcing her to turn the steering wheel and jam on the brakes. Her car came to a stop with a loud squeak, Bela was thrown sideways, her elbow struck painfully against the door, and it was nothing more but pure luck that her reaction was fast enough to avoid the crash. Thank God she managed to miss that tree that was growing right at the roadside, Bela thought somehow through that crazy hammering of blood in her temples.

Seatbelt unfastened by the still trembling fingers, she rushed out of the car with an overwhelming urge to rip the head of whoever dared to cross her path off his neck.

"What the hell do you think…" Bela started but stumbled in her tracks and stopped in the middle of the sentence when the driver of that black car got out of it. "Oh, you," voice cold and irritated, arms folded on the chest. Well of course it was him, who else? She should have guessed it right away. "What do you want now? Changed your mind and decided to finish what you had left?"

"We need to talk," Dean said.

Bela threw a quick glance over his shoulder, made sure that the Impala was empty – Sam still wasn't within a striking distance – and turned away from Dean to get back to her car. She didn't even really cared how he found her this time, although was a bit surprised but mainly with the reason of his sudden interest. Thought they'd already discussed everything.

"Go to hell, Dean. I don't have bloody time to chat with you in the middle of nowhere," she opened the door. "And move away this junk that you call a car out of my way." Considering the fact that both cars stood at different angles almost across the not so wide road it was the only way for her to leave. Unless she managed to jump over Dean's _beauty_.

Dean ignored her rather insulting words. Instead he came to her in a brisk pace, grabbed Bela by the elbow, dragged her to the Impala, opened the front passenger's door and forced her not so graciously inside. And slammed the door with a loud _bang!_ She didn't even have time to say anything – didn't even have time to wonder what that all was about – when Dean took his place and the Impala darted off into the night.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bela demanded and looked back to where the streetlamps along the highway were still visible among the trees. Her hand reached for the door handle instinctively.

Dean noticed her move. "Wanna jump out now? Be my guest." And that was very nice of him, assuming the obviously exceeded speed.

"My car…"

"Is not going anywhere until you're back."

Which was true of course, but… Damn, she didn't even have her gun or anything or… Not that Dean was any real threat by the looks of him, Bela decided. He looked strange, even… _confused_? Uncomfortable obviously. _Dean_?! But their previous conversation wasn't the nicest in her life so she'd preferred to have some back up anyway. Still, right at the moment she had nothing else to do other than let the handle go and lean against the leather seat.

"Where are we going?" She asked not even bothering to look at him with her thoughts too mixed and jumpy to think straight.

"Nowhere. As I've already said I needed to talk to you and I can't do it standing like a jerk in the middle of the road."

"Where is Sam?" Bela asked flatly.

"Has a job to do," he shrugged feeling an immense urge to turn on the music to ease the tension somehow but changed his mind the last moment. It didn't look like _anything_ could ease the tension. "Why?"

"Idle curiosity," she smirked. "You said you wanted to talk. That's what I'm doing. Surprised to see you here all alone, without your faithful squire, that's all."

"Whatever," he muttered. And after a pause, "I know everything."

"Like _everything_? Congratulations! Must be a real smarty now."

He paid no heed to her words and continued, "About your parents… um, your dad." Was it his imagination or the air actually became cooler? "About your deal."

Dean didn't even have to look at her to know that she was stunned by his words and that she was pale as sheet now, fingers clutched onto the door handle so tightly that her knuckles grew white. Not necessarily because she was seriously considering jumping out of the car but probably because she just needed to hold onto something, whatever it was.

Bela held her breath and bit her lip, though managed to suppress a wish to shut her eyes tightly. Oh, God, it wasn't happening for real, was it? Damn, it was. She felt like she was falling because, hell, he actually did make the ground slip from under her feet. Not able to look at him… not really, Bela turned away from Dean and rested her head against the cool glass of the side window taking small breaths and trying to understand if she still had a chance to save the remains of her pride and dignity. Is she had some left.

"So you know. Fine! Hope you're happy now." Great job! Now she officially deserved a Nobel Prize or something for acting talent. Hoped she managed to keep her cool. "Why do you even care, Dean?" She winced at the bitterness of the tone of her own voice. "You have a lot to worry about, don't you? Say, Lilith wants you badly too after all." It was an attempt to piss him off enough to throw her out of his car.

Okay, she knew about his deal, too. Dean gave her a sidelong glance, hoped she didn't notice. Well, of course she knew! Why wouldn't she? As long as he remembered, Bela had always been one step ahead of time, in any situation, and news about his deal should not necessarily be on billboards all over the world for her to be aware of it. Still, it was something close to respect that he felt about her ability to be up to date. Yet, he got the ploy and decided not to buy it.

"Why didn't you tell?"

"What difference does it make anyway?" The question was asked in order to finish it as soon as possible. Bela wasn't so sure she'd managed to keep her face for too long. "If that is what you wanted _to talk _about, you're wasting your time because it's none of your business."

"I want to know why," Dean insisted. His voice was only a bit louder than a whisper and yet so firm and determined that Bela just couldn't not to hear it.

"You want to know? Really?" Her laugh was loud and a bit too hysterical, and because of that probably even sounded like an uncontrolled sob, but Bela just couldn't do anything about it. All she _could_ do was hope that she was not going to start crying right there and then because she was really close to that. "What do you think, Dean? It's not that part of my life I usually brag about." Like there _were_ any parts to brag about.

She finally let herself close her eyes with the only wish to fall asleep and wake up two weeks ago. Though two days would do now, too. She should have told him from the start, Bela thought belatedly. Should have go to him immediately, and everything would be different now. But she didn't know then… about his deal and stuff. And she didn't want to be weak and vulnerable in his eyes because Bela Talbot was anything but weak. And now she felt so humiliated and confused and embarrassed and… all too many feelings at once to even identify them. And with Dean sitting next to her...

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.

"I don't need your sympathy, Dean," she retorted harshly. "Or understanding, or… anything."

"Can you stop being so damn bitchy for just a second?" He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and shook his head in annoyance. "Gee, Bela! Why do you always have to be like this? I'm kind of trying to help you."

Her heart fell. "You can't help me," voice was tired and bitter. "No one can. Maybe with the exception of your brother."

"Sam?" Too much surprised with her words, Dean nearly missed the next turn but managed to straiten the car out the last moment before they drove into the ditch. "What does Sam have to do with it? How can he possibly help you?"

"Simply by dying," Bela said dryly, decided to play her cards open now that there were not so many things left that Dean Winchester didn't know about her. So, she told him everything - about why she needed the Colt, about how it didn't work, and about what they asked her to do instead. Tried not to touch upon a subject of her past, though. Bare facts, no emotions, as if she was speaking about the weather. And only God knew what it cost her! "Sam's dead and I'm free. You wanted the truth? Here it is, simple and cruel. Feeling better?"

"Idle curiosity, huh?" He chuckled. "Not even close."

They kept silence for several miles, both deep in their thoughts.

Then Dean fished his mobile phone out of the pocket of his jacket and dialed the number.

"Hey, Sammy!" Bela heard his overly cheered voice. "You okay there?... Fine, just watch your back… Um, listen, I need your help here. I need Ruby's phone number and I know that you have it… Okay, I know that, but I don't really have time for candles and spells and other chick romance." Bela didn't have to look at him to say that Dean winced; couldn't believe that, considering the obstacles, she smiled to herself. "Yeah, I remember what I said… and this too…" There was a long pause this time followed by a heavy sigh. "No, Sammy, I'm… I'm not coming back right now." Dean took a deep breath before he continued. "I have a lead." A quick look at Bela and his eyes were on the road again. "I have a lead on the Colt. And I might use Ruby's help here… No, it is real this time, man… Thanks, bye."

He stuffed his mobile back into the pocket and concentrated on the road.

"So?" Bela asked after a while.

"What?"

"What was that weird conversation about?"

"Do you know where the Colt is?" Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yes."

"I need it," he sighed as if this confession was the last thing he could possibly imagine to say. "And I need it badly. And… I have an idea how to help you out of this deal. Then I want the Colt back."

Bela regarded him suspiciously doing her best to hide that obvious surprise and – yes – hope. "Are you serious?"

"No, it's my freakin' way to fool around!" He rolled his eyes. "'Course I'm serious!"

"What are you going to do?"

"You said you've gotta kill Sam," Dean shrugged matter-of-factly. "So, logically, all we have to do is kill him, right?"

* * *

**To be continued****…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes:** Thanks everyone for your reviews :)) Hope, you're gonna like the following chapters

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Dean opened the door to the roadside motel room and, being such a gentleman, held it for Bela.

"Feel like home!" He allowed graciously following her inside.

Bela looked around the small room with long worn-out carpet, faded comforters on two single beds, scratched bedside tables with a TV that looked like a museum rarity on one of them, and curtains that were a little too short and probably twice older than she, and sighed. Wondered in the back of her mind whether these stains on the carpet near the window were dried blood but decided that it wasn't the best thing to think about at the moment. Not really homey but definitely Dean Winchester style, Bela decided.

"I'd rather not," she muttered under her breath.

Then she came up to the window and looked out at the empty parking lot, arms wrapped around her own shoulders. From where she was standing she could see a neon sign that read "Pacific Haven" at the far end of it which seemed ridiculous as the place was quite far from being a Haven and not even anywhere close to the Pacific. Two letters were turned off, probably broken, and one more was flickering like crazy. The lights in the registration office were on, though, and a shadow moved there behind the curtains. Most likely a clerk struggling to find what to occupy himself with for the rest of the night.

Meanwhile Dean took off his jacket and threw it carelessly across one of the beds. After that he fished his mobile phone and dialed the number.

"Hey, Ruby, it's…" he stopped and winced, obviously at the reply he received. "Yes, I've heard that already before and I'm freaking flattered, really. You're nice as always." He smiled as if Ruby could see him. "Um… listen, I know how to get the Colt back, and it's not a joke. I only need you to do whatever it takes to make your lot believe that my brother is dead." This time he had to jerk the phone away from his ear for a while giving Ruby a chance to say her furious remarks, which referred mainly to his _your lot_ definition. Bela looked questioningly at him listening with interest to what she could make out. Dean caught her gaze and said soundlessly only with his lips pointing at the phone, "She's just awesome!" which Bela had no reasons to doubt as the tirade finished with something very close to _frigging_ _jerk_. "Okay, honey! I knew I could count on you." That was addressed to Ruby again. "Thanks!" And he hung up before she could say something.

"So, your docker-like manners are not my privilege only, Dean." Bela smirked. "Just give me some time to understand whether it pleases or wounds my feelings."

"Well, that's a progress! At least we known you have them," Dean returned with his trademark Winchester smile all across his face.

"Sweet!" She commented dryly. "What now?"

"Now? Now I'm going to save your ass. Once again." Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Sit tight!"

"Oh, no! You're not leaving me here alone!"

"Yes, I am, sweetheart. You can't help and hell if I let you cause me any more trouble than you already did." He checked his gun before tucking it behind the waistband all the way pretending that he didn't notice her flaring look.

"And what am I supposed to do _here_?" She asked sullenly with a displeased frown.

"Well, I don't know! Use your imagination!" Dean shrugged. "Watch TV. There's that midnight talk-show… Enjoy yourself! Please, be good girl and don't make me cuff you, I'm not in the mood for these games now."

"Dean…"

"Lock the door," he ordered before walking out. "I'll be back… sometime."

"What about my car?" She asked after him but it was as good as talking to the wall, as Dean had already been halfway through the parking lot by the end of the phrase with the door slammed behind him. "That's just damn perfect!" Bela muttered when she suddenly found herself standing in the middle of the cheapest and shabbiest motel room she'd ever seen. Everything happened so fast that she didn't even have a chance to understand if it was good or bad. Like a dream come true at first sight, Bela thought somewhat warily. More than she could ever wish and hope for. Or maybe nothing at all in the end.

She sighed and looked around. The idea of watching TV when her nerves were on edge seemed ridiculous just because. At last she spotted an old armchair that could possibly belong to her grandmother's grandmother that stood in the corner, climbed into it and pulled her knees up to her chest. Even despite the late hour the lights were off, for conspiracy. Not that it would be of any use against hell creatures, Bela thought, but she felt somehow safer that way, with the only illumination coming from streetlamps and that bloody neon sign. She reached into the pocket of her jacket for a mobile phone and tried to connect with Rufus, ask him if he'd talked to Dean, probably tell him that he was as good as dead if he had, but his phone was turned off. Bela stared at the black display as if waiting for a hint and then tucked the phone behind one of the cushions, thought she'd hear if it rang.

So, she sat there, and the silence was so think that even the sound of her own breath seemed too loud and out of place. And she prayed. For the first time in years she prayed, for Dean, for herself, feeling the unbidden tears slide down her cheeks and thanking God that she was alone at the moment.

The simplest alarm clock that so perfectly fit the furniture of the room flickered on the bedside table between the beds. If Dean failed – which Bela didn't really like to think about but still _if_ – she had a little bit more than two hours left. That thought made chill run down her spine and she wrapped her arms even tighter around her knees. Oh_, God, please help him. Just for once, please don't leave him alone_…

--

Bela must have dozed off somewhere between one thought and another, probably too tired, or jaded to be exact, by all recent events that even her anxious state could not help her stay awake.

When she woke up from a pretty nasty dream several hours later it took her a couple of minutes to understand why on Earth would she be sleeping completely dressed on something that felt very much like a wooden bunk without a mattress. Something that least of all resembled anything she got used to. And then the memories of past few hours crept into her mind…

Bela sat up at a rush having several realizations at once. First of all, it started raining outside. She could hear heavy raindrops pattering against the window, firm and steady, right above her head. No wonder she was dreaming about a thunderstorm, she thought absentmindedly. Second – speaking of _right above_ – Bela was no longer sitting in the armchair. Somehow – and she still had to figure out _how_ – she moved to one of the beds and, what was even more surprising, she was covered by the side of a comforter she was actually lying on at the moment, definitely with care. And the last, the most unexpected discovery – was that her suitcase at the door?

"Dean?" Bela called out for him almost sure that she was still alone, assuming the silence in the room and complete unreality of what she was seeing.

"What? Can't sleep without me?" The sound of his voice made her whip round. "I always knew you've gotta be dreaming about me, Bela."

He was sitting on the next bed leaning against the headboard, with a pillow behind his back and a notebook in a weary cover in his lap, which he closed and put away together with the small flashlight that he used for reading as soon as she turned his way. He had dark circles under his eyes and he definitely looked tired, Bela decided, and who knew how long he'd been sitting here like that, but he still was Dean with that trademark smirk of his on his lips.

Bela sighed with relief and tried not to think about how it could be that his presence was making her feel warm all over.

"Don't flatter yourself," she made a funny face in reply to his comment. Okay, at least she found out how she got to the bed, which, she had to admit, was very nice of him. Something she least expected of Dean. Ever. Something she appreciated but, well, he didn't need to know about that. "What did you do to my car?"

"Sold it," Dean shrugged. "That junk," he waved his head to the suitcase, "no one wanted, though."

"If everything you own is junk, Dean, it doesn't mean that the same goes for everyone," Bela smirked, pleased with herself when he had nothing to say against that.

"You okay?" He asked suddenly, pretty much matter-of-factly, and added with pretended indifference in response to her arched brows. "I saw you had troubled sleep." It sounded almost like an excuse for the question because there was definitely something more in his voice than he was intended to show. Concern?

Well, yes, to some degree, because he did move her from that armchair which was fine but clearly uncomfortable to death when it came to sleeping in it and onto the bed. And then he watched her sleeping, and he felt really weird as he did. Worried, Dean decided. And protective. It seemed normal at first sight. Would've been in any other circumstances. If only he wasn't feeling _over_-protective about… _Bela_? Yes, she still was a pain in the ass, his personal major pain in the ass to be exact, but knowing _what_ she had to go through just kind of changed everything. Like she was still Bela but not the same Bela he knew. He couldn't look at her the same way anymore. And it was something totally different from what he got used to.

"It's nothing," Bela retorted somewhat defensively feeling slightly uneasy about the way he looked at her. "How did everything go?"

"Awesome!" Dean grinned at her and – now that she was awake – turned on the light. "You know, digging the friggin' corpses out of their graves to burn them down so that their restless spirits could calm down was okay. Well, had been, since I got used to it. But stealing a body from morgue was a total _yuck_!" He winced. "A brand new experience!"

"Charming," Bela said with obvious disgust. "You know how entertain yourself, Dean." After that she swallowed nervously; keeping her cool was getting more and more difficult. "Do you think it actually worked?"

"It's four in the morning and you're still alive," he shrugged and gave out a wide yawn. "There was that guy, shot in the street fight, the same age and constitution as Sam but… um… hardly recognizable from the face." Dean sighed having no idea why he would tell her the details in the first place. Wondered if she cared at all but went on anyway. "Ruby took some blood from me and mixed with his. Some creepy DNA stuff," he raised his left arm and showed the bandage right below the elbow that was obviously covering the cut. "And she added something else to it – don't ask me what because I have no freaking idea. But I guess it worked." He looked Bela straight in the eye. "They bought it. From now on Sam Winchester is officially dead to everyone demon-related."

She watched Dean intensely for a while, trying to read the expression of his face which was strangely grave, despite the lightness of his voice. And she didn't like what she saw.

"It can't be that easy, can it?"

"In can't," Dean agreed with a nod.

Oo-kay!

"What is it, then? What's the trick?"

"It won't get them too long to understand that this son of a bitch is not my brother," he said with a regretful sigh. "Because he isn't, with all my respect to Ruby's resourcefulness."

Bela felt her stomach clench uncomfortably and adjusted her position on the bed, sat cross-legged to face him fully and absently ran her fingers through her hair.

"How long?"

"I don't know, several days. Ruby said, maybe three. Five at most," Dean dropped his gaze; pretended that the wristlet of his watch suddenly became very interesting.

"Five days," Bela repeated. "Let me think…" She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. That and a deep breath cleared her mind and helped her calm down and concentrate on the news. "That should be enough. Technically."

"Enough for what?" He blinked at her.

"Enough to get the Colt back. That was the whole point, remember?" Dean shrugged vaguely, which Bela took as _Sure, but I can't say right to your face_. "I'll… I'll make a couple of phone calls," she looked up at the alarm clock, "in the morning. And then I'll probably have to… Okay, joking aside, where is my car? You surely don't expect me to hitch-hike for your plaything across the world, do you? I need my car."

"You?" Dean gave out a short laugh and shook his head, obviously amused. Turned a deaf ear to her rather insulting _plaything_ remark though. "Oh, no, sweetheart, I'm not letting you out of my sight before I have my gun back. Wherever you go, I go there, too."

That wasn't an offer or a request. His voice was stubbornly determined. Bela wanted to comment on lack of trust, which of course was justified but no less offensive nonetheless, while they stared at one another with withering looks. At last Bela rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Dean," she huffed. "Not a problem. _Two_ tickets to London, then. Hope you don't mind traveling in the first-class cabin, not in a luggage space?"

"I'll cope," he assured her with a venomous smile. "Wait a minute…" Dean paused when the meaning of the words she'd said sank into his mind, eyes grew unnaturally wide. "Two tickets to _where_? London? You mean like _flying_?"

"You can drive," Bela snorted. "I'm sure your car will make an indelible impression on the sharks."

--

Bela's subtle suspicions were confirmed as soon as they got on board. Of course it was hard not to notice that Dean was unusually nervous during registration – his constant humming and impatient tapping on the registration desk were irritating - and the way he looked as they walked along the numerous duty-free shops to their boarding gate reminded Bela of an animal trapped in a cage. But, Lord, it was Dean Winchester! Something in the back of her mind just didn't let her believe that it was something more than a simple natural response to an unfamiliar and overcrowded place.

Still, he looked quite on edge, if a white knuckled grip on the seat handles of his seat was an indication. And when the stewardess came up to them, bent over Bela giving her best radiant smile – sincere, not simply professional, Bela noted with irritation – to Dean and offered, "Champagne, sir?" he mustered something not even close to _Dean-Winchester-like_ at her. And asked, "Do you have real alcohol?"

"No, thank you!" Bela answered with a polite smile for the both of them when the girl frowned and before Dean had time to ask for something like cheap beer in the first-class cabin.

"You know what?" Dean said suddenly. "I changed my mind. You go there alone and I'll wait you here. Call me when you land."

He made an attempt to rise up but Bela put her hand on his arm and pushed him firmly down. Besides, his seatbelt had already been long fastened and the plane itself was halfway through the runway, its speed increasing with each passing second while the houses and trees outside were getting terrifyingly small.

"Relax, Dean, it's just a plane," she said carelessly, simply couldn't help but tease him.

Dean looked up and down the isle with slight panic at other passengers, most of whom were absolutely calm and indifferent to the fact that the distance between them and the solid grown was growing very fast. How could they be reading these damn magazines or listening to music or… _sleeping_?! Freaks! And, wait a moment! Why would anyone decide that people _were meant_ to fly in the first place?

"Just a plane," he mimicked leaning against the leather seat and taking deep breaths, which actually were small and convulsive against his will. "It is a freaking metal box that moves at least five times faster than the car at the height of seven thousand miles above the earth." And added, "They crash all the time!" Okay, now he _was_ panicking. Awesome! "The last time I checked the captain was possessed by a demon intended to kill all the passengers no matter what and the plane was halfway to becoming a coffin," he wrinkled his nose at the memory, and at the fact that his voice was probably too small and miserable than it should've been.

Wow, that was a hell of a discovery – Dean Winchester was afraid to fly!

In any other circumstances Bela would've never missed an opportunity to comment on that but now she suddenly felt sad – probably it was the lack of sleep or something like that – because that discovery first of all proved how little she actually knew about him. A lot less than he knew about her, anyway. It turned out that aside from unexpected run-ins and light banter that both obviously enjoyed, they still were total strangers. Was there a chance that he felt as lonely as she did?

So, instead of saying a witty reply that had already formed in her mind and was about to slip out of her mouth Bela simply covered his hand with her palm and entwined their fingers when Dean, caught by surprise, loosened his grip on the handle. Her touch was warm and soft and somehow reassuring. And it kind of burned on his skin and mixed all his half-formed thoughts. It was better this way. It felt like… like a bond. As if they cared.

Dean looked at her, puzzled, but she was staring thoughtfully out the window at the while blanket of clouds that was flowing right beneath the aircraft, so solid and fluffy from above that even the idea of possible clash seemed utterly ridiculous – in case of emergency the plane would simply land right there, onto the safety of these cotton-like forms. Like in a fairy-tale… A fairy-tale with happy-ending.

"I talked to Sam," Dean said quietly to break that sudden and uneasy silence – felt an immense urge to say something and didn't find a better subject than his geek of a brother right away. And it was a little bit embarrassing to tell the truth, like they had nothing else to talk about, but Bela's move – obviously comforting move, even beyond her rather flat expression – needed some response.

Bela knew he did; saw him talking on the phone, all annoyance and irritation, while she was buying the tickets to London for _Mr. and Mrs. Simpson_. If it wasn't Sam she had no idea who else could it possibly be. Still, she was pleased that it was Dean who started the conversation, even if it was nothing more but his poor and purely egoistic attempt to distract himself from his own nasty thoughts.

"And how did he like the idea of being dead?" She turned to him with her eyebrows arched expressively and her head tilted slightly to the left side in a questioning manner.

"Little jerk was totally pissed off, to tell the truth, aside from the part where he wished for a mahogany coffin," he rolled his eyes with a snicker and judging from the tone of his voice Bela could not say for sure if he was annoyed or amused by that. Probably both. "Said he had no time to play hide-and-seek. I told him to sit tight till I'm back because he can kinda ruin everything by running around like a friggin' Zorro. He said I might as well go to hell."

"He might as well understand that pretending to be dead is better than being dead for real," she said dryly.

"Yeah, well… Ruby's going to pay him a visit. To look after him actually. You know, just in case." He cleared his throat and shrugged. "To make sure we're not wanted by their bloody demonic Interpol all over again."

"To check on how much Sam's going to be pissed off by the fact that his brother sent him a babysitter," Bela added and couldn't help but smile when he winced.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Author's note: I swear to God I have no idea how it happens that this story line just keeps growing in my mind :)))

Here, in this chapter, I gave some insight on Bela's past and how it turned out that Rufus was helping her.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Wow!" Dean swore to God that he would stay cool as he watched Bela signing something at the registration office and while they walked down the long corridor of the upper floor of the hotel but what he saw when he opened the double door made him literary freeze to the spot. "A luxury suite for _newly-weds_, Bela? That's just _wow!_ you know? And we didn't even have a real date so far!" And added, all confidence, "I knew you had a soft spot for me, right from the start."

She elbowed him aside with a scornful snort and made her way into the room, pretty much indifferent to the décor, alongside with Dean's reaction. Didn't expect anything else from him anyway, and wasn't about to give a damn about it.

"Shut up, Dean. Because of that bloody Congress of paramedics, or other para_something,_ everything is overcrowded," Bela scowled. "This was the only room in a decent place I managed to find in the area. Unless of course you want to go for the Colt by subway," she added with a wry smile looking at him over the shoulder.

"Never get tired of being a freaking smartass all the time, Bela?"

"Not really. Besides, we're not going to actually _sleep_ here. Our plane is in several hours, which we surely are not spending in whatever dump you might consider decent."

"You break my heart," he mumbled, looking at the king-size bed, fluffy white carpet which was covering every single inch of the floor, two most comfortable armchairs he'd ever seen and a mahogany table for breakfasts between them with a vase full of fresh flowers right in the middle, and the landing-field sized balcony behind the lightest curtain that fluttered slightly in the evening breeze.

_Decent_ in Bela's understanding was _Disneyland-sucks-compared-to-THIS!_ in Dean's.

"Anyway, we take the Colt and go back to the airport," Bela continued as she dug into her suitcase. "So would you please be so kind to catch up your jaw before it hit the floor?"

"Care for my jaw?"

"Care for the floor."

Suitcase zipped back, she headed for the bathroom with a pile of cloths in her hands.

Dean watched the door shut behind her, heard the lock click a moment later, and breathed out loudly when he suddenly caught himself at the thought that he was actually holding his breath ever since they entered the room. Damn, it looked like a frigging palace! A frigging palace for _newly-weds_! He chuckled to himself. Gee, Sam would've found what to say had he known about how this brother was spending his time. Sam would go crazy if only he knew _where_ Dean was spending his time! God, _London_! With Bela…

He threw a quick look at the bathroom door listening carefully to the sound of pouring water behind it and pulled his mobile phone out of the pocket. No voice messages, no missed calls. Dean looked at it thoughtfully considering pros and cons of making a call and tucked it back with a sigh. Didn't want to give Sammy false hope before they actually had the Colt back. Besides, time difference.

When Bela came out of the bathroom, all in black and with her hair pulled up and clumped in a ponytail, Dean was lying on the bed with his legs crossed and one arm put leisurely behind his head, flipping lazily through the TV channels.

"And men in black make their return," he commented as soon as he spotted her in the room and turned the TV off before giving her a long appraising look from head to toe. "Or women. Whatever."

"We're not on vacation here," Bela reminded him.

"Hard to remember about that in a room like this." Te hell with pride! He _was_ impressed, like _for real_. The whole place was stinking with money!

"They don't have porn channels here, you know?" She sneered and added, "Even on prepaid basis."

"Well, that changes everything then!" Remote control tossed aside, Dean got up and gave her another long gaze, somewhat appreciative this time. Hoped he managed to hide that concern about dark circles under her eyes and a wish to comfort her somehow. "You look like you're gonna rob the bank," he stated proudly at last.

"Me? It's not me, Dean. It's _us_," Bela patted him on the shoulder trying to speak as carelessly as she could because, God, she was shaking all over knowing _what_ they were going to do. "Your idea, remember? Make a picture to memorize the moment for your brother and let's go."

_A luxury suite for newly-weds_! Gosh!

--

"It is here."

Bela stopped in the shadows across the road from a three-storey old house with chimney pipes on the roof and brick walls covered with a layer of ivy, green at this time of the year, that stood behind the waist-high fence. Lit with the streetlamps, it looked a bit eerie even with the light in the first floor windows.

"You sure?" Dean asked automatically, purely out of habit to doubt her every word and looked at the house somewhat suspiciously.

In his understanding the place where the Colt was supposed to be kept should've looked at least like an unassailable fortress with ten-foot fence and a ditch with alligators around it, not like a country-house of an average English businessman, whatever a country-house of an average English businessman might look like.

"No, Dean, I made all the way to London with the only intention to stumble into a couple of randomly picked manors," Bela snorted giving him _that_ look, wished she could fold her arms on the chest and roll her eyes but decided that scornful hem would be enough.

"You're sure, then," he nodded feeling a little bit confused about what he was seeing and gave Bela a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

She was unusually and unexpectedly quiet as they walked down the mostly empty streets of the western suburb, clearly deep in her thoughts and obviously not intended to share. Several times Dean tried to make an attempt to start a lazy conversation about _How these jerks can drive on the wrong side of the road and never crash?_ or _Hey, it _really_ rains all the time in England! I thought it was a just a freaking bad joke._ Anything to end this tense silence! But Bela's answers were irrelevant and in the end Dean had nothing left to do but give up and enjoy whatever scenery he could see along the way. Not that there was a lot to look at, aside from endless blocks of pretty much similar houses and rare cars, wet from the drizzle.

"Spirits can refuse to communicate but they usually tell the truth when they are in a mood for a little chat," Bela explained as a truce, didn't mean to sound as harsh as she actually did but the damn place was causing the memories she thought were long buried and forgotten. It made her feel uneasy and embarrassed as if _feeling_ was something strange and not really meant for her. Especially with Dean around. Especially with what she felt about him, which was probably not quite right but so great at the same time, and…

"Who lives in there?" Dean asked.

"A man who bought the Colt from the man who bought it from me," She shrugged. "Why?"

"Prefer to be informed," he smiled at her while checking on his gun, not really keen on using it, but just in case. "Why would anyone want to sell something like this kind of weapon?" The question was obviously rhetoric, muttered under his breath.

"Because there are a lot of people - I mean _normal_ people - who don't give a damn about saving innocent lives, world peace and other beauty pageant crap, Dean," Bela gave him a meaningful look; simply couldn't let his comment slip unnoticed. "These people know how to make money and do it however and whenever they can."

"You mean people like you? Speaking from experience here?" He smirked but it was light enough to make it clear that he was just teasing her.

Bela gave him her best venomous smile. "I never said I was any different, did I?" Their usual banter was a familiar territory. It was safe. It was easy. "Come on, I know how to get inside. Hopefully unnoticed."

Dean was the first to climb over the low ivy-covered fence as the gate turned out to be locked. After that he gave Bela a hand to help her join him and never let it go all the way across the front yard as they made their way towards the side walk that ran around the house. Two black shadows in the darkness. Their footsteps were soundless on the dry leaves, wet from the recent rain. His palm was a little bit rough and warm and somehow comforting, so Bela simply squeezed it tight as she followed Dean, half-pace behind.

"Thank God," she muttered when they turned around the corner and stopped near the old tree, centuries old by the looks of it.

Dean looked up at the dark windows of the second and third floors and whistled softly to himself, pleased with what he saw. Whatever mood the spirits were in when Bela annoyed them with her questions, they gave her damn good directions.

"That's just awesome," he breathed out with a goofy smile on his face. "So, where is it?" The question was addressed to Bela and referred undoubtedly to the Colt.

"There," Bela looked up too and after a moment's hesitation pointed at the second floor window, the third from the one that Dean thought would be perfect to get inside through as it was the closest to the widely spread old and thick branches. "Windows are no wired for alarm," she added. "Only the doors."

"Really?" Dean gave her a surprised look. "This guy takes a lot of things for granted."

"People usually do," Bela mumbled under her breath. "Can you help me?"

"What are doing?" He cleared his throat, obviously trying to hide a snicker as he watched her reaching for the nearest branch.

"Going up."

"No, you're not. I go up and you stay here."

"The hell I do!" Bela peered at him angrily. "You're not leaving me behind!"

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. I go for the Colt and you wait for me right where you are!"

She folded her arms on the chest and narrowed her eyes at him, fury started to boil in her blood. "Since when do you call the shots, Dean?" Given the obstacles, it was meant to sound like a whisper, an appropriate way to speak when standing at the house you were going to break into, but it clearly came out as a hiss.

"Since I need to have my back covered," he answered in exactly the same manner.

They watched each other for a while, both stubbornly determined and none intended to give in no matter what. Lips pursed tight and chins tipped high with challenge, they kept on throwing flaring and furious looks at one another for what seemed an eternity. An eternity of wasted time, to be exact, as it quickly turned out that it was definitely leading them nowhere. Yet, taking a step back meant first of all a voluntarily acknowledged defeat for each of them which was simply impossible just because.

"And how am I supposed to be of any use if I _do_ see something suspicious?" Bela asked skeptically at last when standing on the spot turned out to be absolutely ridiculous.

"Think something out," Dean shrugged. "You have ten minutes. If I'm not back in ten minutes feel free to do whatever you come up with." Bela gritted her teeth and frowned, wanted to say a couple of words about more effective back up but decided not to. Not that she expected him to listen to the common sense anyway. "Now, tell me where the Colt is."

She puffed with irritation, considered the possibility of a threat and left if as potentially useless.

"This is the corridor window," she pointed at the one Dean spotted earlier. "The room you need is the second door to the right. The safe is behind the painting with an old lady. Should I tell you the combination, too?" The question was clearly sarcastic.

"Oh, honey, leave me some challenged to deal with," Dean smirked. "You've already spared me an exciting search through the house. Enough disappointments for one day."

He turned away under her displeased look and thanked God that it was physically impossible – for a human at least! – to kill with the power of mind because that was exactly what he thought Bela was finding very tempting at the moment. But before he started climbing up she spoke again.

"There is a squeaky floorboard right before the door you need," the voice was cold and flat. "And do try not to break anything along the way. We don't need any extra noises, do we?" She caught the gaze Dean threw at her over the shoulder. And after that, "Be careful there, okay?"

Dean's brows arched expressively and Bela had almost prepared to hit him or something if he dared to comment on her words one was or another. But suddenly, before she had time to get surprised, she felt his hand brush lightly against her cheek and slide around her neck only to pull her closer. And then Dean's lips were on hers, for just a moment, so brief that when he pulled away she would have certainly doubted that it had happened for real if it wasn't for that burning felling on her lips and butterflies in her stomach.

"And what, may I ask you, was that?" She wondered with the best smirk she could muster given the fact that she couldn't actually think straight at the moment.

"An encouragement," Dean shrugged matter-of-factly and before he left she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, pulled him closer and returned the kiss, as quick and light as his own.

"I need an encouragement, too," Bela's lips twisted into a wry smile in response to his questioning look as she enjoyed his utter confusion.

"I see."

It took Dean not more than half a minute to climb up the tree with a grace of a cat. Bela watched him open the window, definitely without an effort. That was the skill perfected by time and a wealth of experience, she thought and smiled to herself. Wished she could giggle and she definitely would have in any other circumstances but right now it suddenly seemed way out of place. Wished she went with him, too, just in case, but then – okay, let him play all bossy and heroic. What bad could that do?

Dean slipped soundlessly inside and looked out moments later to throw a quick glance down. Bela saw his lips move but couldn't make out what he was saying, only got it that everything was fine so far.

She started to count in her mind, knew exactly how much time Dean would need to get to the room, break the code and take the Colt, give or take fifteen seconds assuming his curiosity. And, okay, it was the best way to get herself distracted as the creepy place was making her nervous. She could even swear she felt like someone – or some_thing_ – was staring at her from the darkness.

The house looked like a frigging museum, Dean thought as he was making his way down the corridor listening intensely for any sound that might appear. All these paintings on the walls that followed him with their cold and reproachful glances made him want to shiver against himself. A collection of weapons that was kept in glass cases along the walls and consisted of knives and guns of all possible times and origins caught his attention for a little while, until Dean suddenly realized that that he was casting cautious glances at an old African ritual mask that hung on the wall. Whatever that crappy junk was meant for he couldn't help but feel its empty eyeholes burning his back.

Dean straightened himself up from the glass cases and came closer to the thing, purely out of wish to prove himself that it was nothing more than just a painted piece of wood with tufts of dried grass for hair. It was obviously an occult object, he decided and cleared his throat soundlessly, feeling quite uneasy near it. Mustered a strained smile at it as if the mask could appreciate the effort, and then switched to another thought.

He kissed her. Why would he ever kiss her? Why on Earth would she kiss him back?! It was crazy. No, not crazy. It was insane! And everything inside of him screamed that it was the wrong time, the wrong place. That it was _Bela_, for God sake! But at the same time it felt so right, so natural that Dean wondered – despite logic and common sense – how _she_ felt about it because she had to feel something, right? Because she made a step forward, too, and…

And here was the door. Lost in his thoughts, Dean nearly forgot about that bloody floorboard Bela mentioned but instinctively stepped over it the last moment.

To break the safe open turned out to be even easier than he first imagined, Dean smirked to himself. Couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw the Colt in there, among the jewelry boxes and document folders; felt sudden access of gratitude towards Bela for giving them both that second chance. Or… damn, maybe he just needed an excuse for feeling what he actually felt about her! Just like that, without any reason. Dean ran his fingers along the cold surface and then grabbed the gun quickly as if it could vanish if he didn't. Closed the safe after that and placed the painting back without a sound. It was right about time to get out of there.

Something strange was in the corridor. Dean felt it as soon as he left the room. He was not alone. Couldn't explain how exactly he knew it, but it was like an animal instinct to feel another living creature nearby. As if he could hear another heartbeat, other than his own.

The first and the most logical explanation was – _Bela!_ And then – _I'll kill her this time! Why couldn't the damn woman simply do what she was told just for once?! _

But he didn't have time to think about it. The next moment two things happened at once – his mobile phone rang and something – some animal surely – growled in the darkness.

"Good doggie," Dean whispered stepping backwards.

Loud bark made Bela jump on the spot and whirl her head upwards so fast she nearly wringed her neck. Her heart jumped up to her throat. "Dean!" She gasped as he nearly tumbled out of the window followed by angry barking from inside the house. It was nothing but pure luck that he managed to grab the branch of the tree that slowed his inevitable fall because he didn't have time to adjust his weight properly and hence had nothing left to do than simply slide down the shaggy trunk.

"Let's get out of here," Dean breathed out as soon as his feet touched the ground. They both looked up at the windows, now brightly lit, and at a silhouette moving along the corridor.

"What happened?" She whispered.

"Freaking pet," Dean winced.

"But you got the Colt, right? Tell me you have it."

"Why, I didn't go there for fun!"

--

"Mind if I grab some snacks?" Dean asked when they entered the hotel and he spotted an entrance to the bar in the far end of the hall. "I'm starving and they have a friggin' cool menu!"

"Whatever," Bela rolled her eyes and headed righted for the lifts without looking back.

As soon as the doors closed behind her Dean pulled his mobile phone out of the pocket and saw missed call from Sam. Geek boy found no better time for the wish to talk than when he least could do it, Dean thought and dialed Sam's number immediately.

"Hey, Sammy!" He greeted his brother in response to irritated grumble "_What?_" on the other end of line.

"_Dean? Are you okay? I was just… you didn't pick up._" Sam cleared his throat.

"I'm frigging awesome!" Dean looked around the hall wishing for Sam to see smooth marble floors, softest carpets, crystal chandelier that sparkled like a million of diamonds and door-keepers in green uniforms. "I was… busy. Sorry."

"_Busy, huh?_" Sam chuckled.

"How are you doing there?"

"_Don't make me answer that question_." Dean could've sworn that Sam winced.

"Oh, come on! It can't be that bad!"

"_I'm stuck with Ruby in that bloody motel room for ages. I'm sick with it!_"

"_It's been a day and a half_," Dean heard Ruby's insulted protest muffled by distance.

"Sounds like the two of you are having real fun!" Dean grinned and heard Sam scowl, imagined him gritting his teeth in annoyance. "You owe me all details later." He could almost see Sam blush like he always did when Ruby was the subject of their conversation.

"_Shut up, Dean. We've been playing damn poker for ten hours in a row_." Sam said defensively. "_I have already lost everything I had_."

"Strip poker you mean I hope? Then you have nothing to complain about, little bro!"

"_You'll be my next bet, Dean, and I swear to God I lose this time again. On purpose! And if I don't - because Ruby is obviously not at all excited about that - I'll kill you with my bare hands the next moment…_"

"I have the Colt," Dean broke into the tirade.

"_…I see you and…_" Sam continued but stopped in the middle of a sentence when he got _what_ Dean had said. The pause on the line was so long that Dean had already started to think that Sam grew dumb or something, maybe had a heart attack, when he heard Sam's voice again, "_What did you say?_"

"I have the Colt," he repeated. "Right now. In my hands." Dean paused. "Well, not exactly in my hands because all these people around might find it freaking scary but… that's details."

"_Oh, God,_" Sam whispered. Dean heard a loud noise in the receiver and suspected that Sam must have missed a chair in an attempt to sit down. "_You're serious. Dean, where are you?_"

Dean looked out the window at the red two-story bus that rushed past the hotel.

"Oh, Sammy, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

The first thing that Bela did when she got upstairs and locked the door behind her back, she made one more attempt to connect with Rufus. Her heart was pounding like crazy and all her thoughts were completely mixed. Couldn't believe that it actually worked… couldn't believe she made herself come anywhere near that damn house once again and didn't lose the remains of her sanity.

Bela put her hand to her chest as if it could slow the heartbeat down and had to admit that it only made it worse – all too many things happened at once and she definitely needed some time to deal with them, to sort them out, but that was exactly what she lacked. Time.

To her surprise Rufus picked up the phone almost immediately.

"_Bela?_" She was touched to hear concern and obvious relief in his voice. "_Is it you?_"

"Yes, it's me." She took a deep breath.

"_You okay? You…_"

"Yes, Rufus, I'm alive," she smiled, then cast a quick look at the door, tried to hear the footsteps that would mean that Dean was coming but heard nothing. "I'm… I'm just _awesome_," Bela smirked; using Dean's trademark word made her wish to giggle. Hoped it wasn't too obvious. "Listen, I need to know. It was you?"

"_It was me – what?_" Rufus sounded genuinely puzzled. He cleared his throat. "_What do you mean, Bela? I don't understand._"

"Dean. He knows about me," she strained herself. "Did he find it out from you?"

"_What?! God, no!_" He assured her immediately. Bela even heard that the question insulted him in some way and felt ashamed. She asked him not to tell and should have known better than suspect Rufus of breaking his word. "_I swear we didn't talk since… we first met. And sure as hell I wouldn't tell him anything._" He paused and added softer. "_It's good he knows, though. Are you with him?_"

Bela rubbed the bridge of her nose and sank into the armchair feeling that she was going to have a severe headache in no time. Wished she could have a cup of coffee, with cream and sugar, and a long sleep. Wished there were no demons, no deals, no hunters. No Dean bloody Winchester! Wished she had another ten years ahead, or more.

"I have to go now," she said ignoring the question Rufus asked. "I'll be in touch."

And she hung up. No good-byes; that was the rule.

Bela leaned against the back of the armchair and puffed. So, what did she have? The conversation was over but hundreds of questions remained. Not that really mattered, Bela thought. She was alive and that was what she considered important. But what about curiosity? Besides, she never liked to be unaware of what was going on.

It wasn't Rufus then. He told her so and she believed him, she always did. He was her only "sort of" friend. Maybe not so much of a friend, she reminded herself. Not the one who called her with Birthday greetings and not the one to whom she was sending New Year or Easter postcards. But someone closer than... anyone else she ever knew, in her new life.

Rufus was the one who helped little Abby die and Bela Talbot come to life. He was the one who never judged her for what she did. He never even said a word or gave her a reproachful glance, she thought. And although their relationship wasn't about crying on each other's shoulder or meaningful heart-to-heart conversations, Bela always suspected that something in his past made him understand her reasons. At least he never blamed her for the way of life she'd chosen for herself.

Something she didn't quite expect anyone to be capable of.

But if it wasn't Rufus, who the hell it was then? Impossibility to receive an answer to that question made Bela growl through her teeth. She was planning to ask Dean, directly in the face, but wasn't sure he'd tell the truth even if she pointed a gun at his head. It was more likely that he'd come up with some bullshit or found a way to change the subject.

Still, it was a minor issue at the moment. Anything was minor in comparison with wiggling out of her deal. And Dean's, too, of course. Now that they had the Colt… well, they just had to use it.

Dean opened the door and saw Bela talking on the phone, all business and determination. The way her jaw was set and the force she was squeezing the receiver with made Dean suspect that her greatest wish at the moment was to dash it against the wall. She raised her head when she heard the sound of him coming in and quickly finished the conversation. "Yes, of course. Thank you." And hung up the receiver.

"Okay, what is it?" He asked and frowned, knew in advance that she couldn't say anything he'd like with an expression like that on her face.

"Good news, honey," she looked at him with a cunning smile, the tone of her voice as sweet as sugar. "Seems like we can use the suite for newly-weds to the full. Aren't you glad?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "Wha… What?!"

Oh, he should've seen his face!

"Our flight is delayed till morning."

"Why?!"

"Because of bad weather conditions."

* * *

**To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** I'd like to thank everyone for your nice reviews and interest :))

This chapter was probably the easiest to write so far, hope you're gonna like it. Warning! Contains some fluff :)))

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Kinda lose your sense of time  
'Cause the days don't matter no more  
All the feelings that you hide  
Gonna tear you up inside  
You hope she knows you tried_

Follows you around all day  
And you wake up soaking wet  
'Cause between this world and eternity  
There is a face you hope to see

_"Unforgivable sinner" by Lene Marlin_

"Unbelievable!" Dean exclaimed. He tossed remote control aside and regarded it with displeasure. "They have two dozens of channels! Two dozens of channels… that show absolute crap!"

"Unbelievable!" Bela mimicked him. "You're telling it for – what? A millionth time already? Hope that makes you feel better."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" He growled dramatically. "We're stuck here for eight bloody hours!" Whatever Dean felt about it, it wasn't happiness.

"It's eight hours, Dean," Bela rolled her eyes. "Not two weeks! And it's just rain, nothing more to it. It rains sometimes, you know. Do try not to take it as the end of the world, okay?"

"No TV! It _is_ like the end of the world."

He scowled and folded his arms on the chest, cast a displeased and gloomy look at Bela who was sitting with her legs crossed in Turkish style on the bed flipping thorough his father's journal – still couldn't believe how he let her coax it out from him. Did she ask at all? He bet she didn't, it wasn't Bela-style – to ask. Well, anyway, she was too occupied to give a shit about his absolute and total boredom.

"You might as well sleep or something." She gave him a long condescending glance. "Anything to keep yourself quiet."

"You kidding?" Dean beamed his best brilliant smile at her. If he got the hint, he ignored it. "Can't let you miss a single moment of my company!"

"I'll live." Bela assured him.

TV forgotten, Dean looked straight at her, all busy with studying the information that his father collected during his lifetime. Wondered if she knew how cute she looked when she was concentrated on something, with her hair down and looped behind her ears, soft curls framing her face. Dean smiled against himself when he noticed how funny she was wrinkling her nose when reading something interesting or curious. Then wondered darkly since when he started thinking about Beal as _cute_ and _funny_ instead of _arrogant_ and _bitchy_, which somehow seemed more natural as far as he could recall.

And then, "Hey, lemme ask you something."

"No."

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "How did you now about that crap in the first place? The squeaking floorboard and stuff. That tree. You surely was expecting - I'd even say hoping - to see it." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't take it personally, Bela, but I just can't freaking believe it that spirits are _that_ informative."

"They are not," she admitted easily. "I knew it. I always did." She looked him in the face, eyes cold as steel and jaw set firm. "The bloody board had always been squeaky as long as I remember. Bet my last dollar no one gave a damn to repair it over the years."

"Always?" He blinked at her, straitened himself in the chair. "So you… you…"

"I know every single corner of the place, Dean, because I grew up there."

She might as well hit him with a frying pan or something, but the effect still wouldn't be even anywhere close to what her words had caused.

"You… What? Grew up? Like… Grew up?" Dean stared at her, blinked several times having an imminent wish to shake his head as if it could help place his chaotic thoughts in some kind of order. "And this man…?"

"No. It's nothing more than a coincidence," Bela laughed and it wasn't a funny laugh, not at all. "A _hell_ of a coincidence, I'd say."

"Oh," _Oh!_ He cleared his throat.

"Don't!" She raised her hand when he only started to open his mouth to say… whatever he wanted to say. "Just don't, Dean, okay? Drop it." Eight hours. God, help her!

And that was what Dean called an awkward silence. Which lasted for… hell, an eternity!

"Um, Bela, I…" he started after a while. Well, actually after he rehearsed everything he was going to say at least a hundred of times in his head. Convinced himself his speech was going to be awesome and touchy! But no matter how smooth and reasonable it sounded in his mind, it still felt clumsy to say it out loud. Dean knew he wasn't good at heart-to-heart conversations and his tongue felt somehow numb in his mouth. Besides, he didn't want to screw everything up, although was pretty much sure that it was exactly what he was doing – breaking whatever fragile peace they managed to maintain. But still… "When I said I was sorry, I really meant it."

"Jesus, Dean! Why don't you get yourself a hobby and leave me alone?" Bela winced at her own unexpected outburst. Which, to tell the truth, was justified. Wasn't it enough that they were stuck together?! Like the fate laughing her in the face. Damn it all! "I don't want to talk about it. Not really. I mean, not at all. Ever! And you know what? When _I_ said I didn't need your sympathy, I meant it, too!" Wished she could send to hell whatever dignity she had left and leave with the door slammed behind her back. Wherever!

Wished she could forget what his lips tasted on her own. What a torture!

Okay, Dean took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. So, he did it! He did screw everything up and it was that special and rare occasion when he had no idea of how to bring it back to normal. Not a single witty response formed in his mind the way they usually did when talking to Bela.

"Fine," he said at last and made a funny face at her when he didn't come up with anything better than that.

"Fine!" Bela spat out and turned away determined not to say a single world more till… till the end of time! And turned off the light to end the conversation the best way she could. Hoped Dean would take it as a hint to shut up, too. Maybe fall asleep even. Not that she was going to sleep… not that she was able to. At least Dean was smart enough not to say a word against that.

Bela closed the John Winchester's journal and put it aside. Uncrossed her legs and then crossed them again, trying to figure out what to occupy herself with in the darkness for the next several hours and yet stubborn not to turn on the lights again. Maybe later, to piss Dean off when he would fall asleep. It was probably not such a bad of an idea to settle in some crappy Winchester-style motel in _separate_ rooms after all, she decided somewhat belatedly. But no! She preferred comfort to… well, comfort of another kind. And where was she now?

Strange as it was, but the room suddenly squeezed to the size of a birdcage as if Dean or his thoughts or something else about him filled every inch of the space. Bela wished she didn't feel him with every cell of her body because… Oh, God! Bela clenched her hands tightly on her shoulders and gritted her teeth. It usually was of use to make an illusion of a shield between her and outer world.

But it didn't work this time. Moreover, she suddenly felt as if something sucked all the air out of the room and she couldn't breathe. Her eyes began to burn and she knew at once that one little swallow of air – the smallest breath she could ever imagine – was going to let the flood open. She bit her lip and had already had a half-formed thought to make it out into the balcony before…

And there it was.

Tears started rolling down her cheeks making Bela feel ashamed and miserable and whatever else she could feel when thinking about what Dean Winchester had said. Of how exactly he said it because – damn it! – she was the best liar and pretender ever! And she knew it right there and then that he _did_ mean it, every word, and it meant so much to her, so much… like nothing else in this godforsaken world. And probably she didn't deserve it, Bela thought. Probably she didn't deserve Dean to be here in the first place.

She dared to take one more breath, very cautiously, when her lungs literary began to burn. But it came out as a sob anyway…

Dean was out of the chair and on his feet the same moment, probably before he even realized what he was doing. Had a vague thought in the back of his mind that it wasn't safe to come anywhere close to Bela after their so-called fight or whatever it was, and waved it away on the instant. And it might have felt awkward – like _really_ awkward – when he saw her tearstained face and felt her shoulders trembling under his hands because it was _Bela_ and _crying_ in one sentence. But the next moment Dean crushed her to him – without thinking at all! - and let her bury her face into his shoulder and slip her arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Bela mumbled and it came out muffled and high pitched through the sobs and made her cry even harder out of embarrassment more than anything else. "I'm so sorry for all that mess and…"

"Sh-h," he whispered into her ear holding on to her as tight as he could without breaking her ribs.

"And I'm sorry that I hurt you, Dean," the words were so quiet that he could barely make them out through that crazy rush of thoughts in his own head and her convulsive breaths. Wished he didn't though because they were like a sharp knife ripping through his heart. The way she said them. "But I'd rather you hated me for the lie than for the truth."

Dean froze taking in the meaning of what she had just said, thought he might have misunderstood something at first because, okay, separate words were comprehensible, but the meaning all in all… well, insane, to say the least. Then he pulled back a little bit, just enough to look Bela fully in the face and…And she was serious! Dean could see it in her eyes. Hate her? For… for what her father did? For… Jesus!

"You silly girl," he laughed bitterly, even somewhat hysterically. "God, Bela," her face cupped in his hands, Dean leaned in and kissed her for real this time. Her hot tears were streaming down the back sides of his hands. And his kiss tasted like desperation, and hope, and missed opportunities, and wasted time, and something really big and bright, all at once. Like something that was impossible to express in words or in any other way. He simply couldn't find out what else to do, what to say. Wasn't even sure that there existed words appropriate in the situation. If they did, Dean Winchester was surely unaware of them.

He didn't break the kiss until Bela stopped shaking from uncontrolled sobs in his hands. After that he simply hugged her and it was probably all he could do for her at the moment, just comfort her the best way he was capable of.

"Dean…"

"Don't cry, Bela, please," he whispered somewhere into her hair. "It sucks to see you crying, really. You're breaking my heart."

She couldn't stop the tears but his words caused a small smile on her lips.

"Does Sam know how happy he is to have you as a brother?"

"Don't get me wrong, sweetheart, but I'd rather die than let my shirt soak in _his_ tears," Dean chuckled, and then added, "I don't hate you, Bela. You can be a real pain in the ass and you are, to tell the truth, but I don't think I could hate you even if I wanted."

_God knew I'd like to_, Dean thought.

And by his strained voice Bela got it that it was a hell of a confession for him.

"I did a lot of bad things, Dean," she whispered into his shoulder wondering absently what was the reason for that sudden outburst of revelation – the fact that she had nothing to lose or the circle of his arms around her body that made her feel safe and… something else. And it was better if he knew, anyway. "Terrible things. But I don't give a damn about it. Never did."

"Why?" He asked automatically as his hands kept on stroking her back absentmindedly.

"What's the point in being some Mother bloody Theresa if you're going to go to hell all the same?" She sighed.

And Dean knew this instant that it was true, that it was how she was seeing it. And that was how he was seeing it, too. To some degree. The difference was that he had Sam and his brother was probably the only reason that helped him hold on for this long with. That and the fact that fighting evil was the only way of living that Dean knew. Given other circumstances, say if he was all alone in all that mess, he didn't know how he'd treat all that knowledge he had about back side of this life.

"What about yourself?" He asked nonetheless, more out of wish to keep on talking than anything else.

"Myself?" The way she said the word made Dean feel that it tasted strange in her mouth. Bela adjusted her position, rested her head on his shoulder now that the storm was over but it was too soon to speak about bright sun and clear sky. "Some things became damn meaningless when… You just have no idea what it feels like to wake up every morning knowing exactly how and when you're going to die and pretend that it makes sense."

Dean gave out a short and bitter snicker, "Oh, sure. Humor me."

"It's not the same thing, Dean. You made a deal to save you brother's life. Because you loved him or because of whatever crappy ideology the two of you had." She felt him smiling at her words. "I, on the other side, agreed to go to hell when I die in order not to be in there while I was still alive. And you know what? When I finally realized that my parents' death was not just an accident, that everything was for real, I decided to make my inevitable fate justified. Didn't want to go to hell for nothing." By the end of the phrase her voice died out and she clung onto Dean even tighter.

Dean didn't know what to say against that. There was hardly anything at all, he thought in annoyance.

"I didn't want to be good," and that was determination mixed with regret in her voice that made everything inside of him twist. _Oh no, you wanted_, Dean thought. _Sure as hell you did. And the more you wanted it, the less you were willing to admit it._ "It was meaningless. And I wasn't about to make life better for anyone."

"So I've noticed." He scoffed. "But, hey, we'll think something out, okay? We have the Colt now and we won some time and… What?" Dean frowned when Bela looked up at him.

"You're the sweetest liar I've ever met," she smiled. To hell with dignity about her terribly red eyes and who knew how badly ruined make-up. If Dean didn't turn and run out screaming at the first sight of her tears he'd live to see her like… like one of those things he fight everyday, she thought somewhat humorously.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"I've heard that before," he nodded and… was it her imagination or he really sounded proud of himself? "And you know what? If they had such course in some friggin' University, I'd become a Master of lying in no time, I swear."

Bela laughed softly. "I bet you would."

She snuggled as close to him as she could, suddenly feeling a bit drowsy from the heat of his body and steady beating of his heart against her chest, or maybe because the tension of several last days eased at last. Wished she could stop the time so that the moment would never end, and tried to remember every single detail of it. No words could express how grateful she was to him for what he was doing for her, for being there for her, for making her feel the way she felt. The last time Bela let herself open up to someone like that was… well, never in her life. No one cared enough. No one was allowed to come that close before.

"Dean?"

"M-m?"

"Thank you. For not letting me go."

"Well, that would be a very big mistake if I did."

--

Cool morning breeze was blowing right in his face and rumpling his hair as Dean stood at the railing on the balcony, looking down at the awakening city in the first rays of the sun. The ribbon of – what did she call it? Ah! The Thames! – sparkled in the distance, its waters unexpectedly blue and calm from where he was watching it. It was like another world, Dean thought to himself, where there were no demons. Where he could be at peace for just a while. Some luxury that lacked in his life for as long as he could remember.

"Dean? We've got to go," Bela came up to him.

"Now?" He pulled her close and kissed her fully on the mouth.

"Yes," she mumbled, feeling a little light-headed and less determined by the second, but still made an attempt to pull back. Although that was, well, a very lousy attempt.

"Can't we stay here for a little while longer?" He rested his forehead against hers, ran his fingers lightly down her cheek and smiled back when Bela's lips curved into a smile under his touch.

"We can stay as long as you want," she breathed out.

"Really?"

"Really," she laughed through another kiss.

It felt amazing, Bela thought. Like she had wings behind her back, and she could spread them wide and fly. And there was no one but the two of them in the whole world.

She put her hands on his cheeks.

"I don't want this to come to an end, Dean," she whispered into his lips as she kissed him back.

The words came out before she realized she said them out loud. And then it was too late. Bela froze for a moment wondering if Dean heard at all what she had just said as she wasn't so much sure of that herself. But even if he did he didn't show it one way or another. And the world did not collapsed although that realization, fully formed at last, kind of turned it upside down. In a good way.

It was probably the first time in her life that Bela said it and she meant it, and she didn't need anything in return. This moment – and this moment only – was worth living at all.

The train of her thought was interrupted by the soft buzzing of a mobile phone.

"It's yours, Dean."

"What? Oh, right," he gave her a quick smile. "It's Sam. Hey, Sammy!" Dean frowned. "Sam?" He looked worriedly at Bela. "Sam, are you there?"

"What is it?" She asked quietly as she caught the change in his mood, her stomach twitched uncomfortably.

Dean looked at his mobile, made sure that they were still connected, shook the phone and called out again, "Sam?" And then with panic to Bela, "He's not answering. Something's wrong." He hung up and then tried to dial Sam's number again. No one picked up. "We… we gotta go. Now."

"Sure," Bela noticed his nervousness and put her hand onto Dean's arm, feeling unnaturally cold skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Calm down. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just problems on the line. There was a storm."

"No, it's not that. It's something else." Dean looked down at her hand first and then up at her face. Thanked God he was not alone. "I know that something happened, Bela. I know."

* * *

**To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes**: And here it is, the last chapter. Not quite action-style, but almost happy ending. Not _happily ever after_ though. I don't think that there could possibly be a _happily ever after_ in Supernatural, but I can't agree with that there is no happy ending for the hunters either :))

That long passage in _italics_ in the beginning of this chapter is a flashback to Bela's past, about how she met Rufus and got involved in her business in the first place.

I'd also like to thank everyone for reviews, and support, and your interest. Can't even say how much I appreciate it :))) You're great!

So, read it now and tell what you think of it, okay?

* * *

**Chapter 5 **

Steady humming of the engines of the plane and never-ending chatter of the passengers, which was so easy to block out, made Bela's mind drift away…

…_Dark and narrow alley, so common for this part of the city, was unexpectedly quiet at this rather late time of the day. Steady staccato of her heels on the pavement was the only sound breaking the silence. A young girl stopped in her tracks and looked back when she thought she heard something behind. Well, okay, maybe cutting her way like that wasn't the best idea but it was too late to go back anyway. And there surely was nothing behind, she tried to persuade herself. Nothing but her overheated imagination. _

_But when she continued walking she couldn't get rid of the feeling that someone was burning a hole in her back. The girl buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and quickened the pace not daring to have another look over her shoulder. Twenty feet or so, she told herself, and she'd come out into one of the most crowded streets and laugh at her stupid childish fears…_

_She didn't notice black shadow rush past her until it was too late and was literary pinned to the brick wall of an old house by someone's body. Couldn't see the attacker, only felt its heavy breath and saw - oh, God, were these fangs?! - right before her face. He growled angrily, hungrily…Chill ran down her spine and she swallowed hard, all too ready for her seemingly imminent death._

_But that very moment when the girl was about to say good-bye to her not so precious life, as it soon turned out that her strength obviously wasn't enough to defend herself, the sound of hurried running steps appeared out of nowhere. _

_And the attacker was gone with an outraged animal roar. _

_The girl slid down the wall feeling unsteady on her feet, her heart was pounding like crazy in her chest. Deafening _bang!_ finished it all before she had time to be surprised. _

_"You okay?" Tall man with weary face and tired eyes came up to her, a gun in his hand, and gave her a long examining look from head to toe. Nodded with satisfaction after he did so. "I'm not going to hurt you," he added when the girl backed away from him, literary merging into the wall, her eyes grew unnaturally wide with fear. "It's over."_

_And there was something about his voice, about the way he looked at her that made the girl believe him. Well, he saved her life a couple of minutes ago, didn't he? _

_Her gaze slipped past her savior and stopped at the figure that lay flat on the ground. _

_"Who is that?" She asked. _

_The man definitely looked human from where she was watching him – was dressed like human at least, in shabby jeans and black leather jacket, - but it was hardly possible she'd ever be able to forget that horrible groaning sound that came out of his throat. _

_"A werewolf," her new acquaintance replied indifferently. He offered his hand to the girl and jerked her up to her feet once she accepted his help. "Count yourself lucky I was on patrol tonight."_

_"A werewolf?" She blinked. "What do you… Who are you?"_

_"A hunter," the man said. _

_"A hunter?" The girl arched her eyebrows at him and anything but laughed out loud. Okay it was too much for one day! "In the center on London? Mister, when was the last time you saw anything to hunt for here?"_

_"Not so long ago," he looked over his shoulder at the limp figure and then expressively at her. "I'd say you think twice before walking through that park two blocks down the street after the sunset."_

_"You've got to be kidding." She smirked. Bold comment came out on its own and surprised her, made her wonder somewhat belatedly whether it was too bold. _

_The man chuckled, though, not at all insulted or anything. "Believe me, I wish I would." He peered at her, his eyes became firm as steel. "I hunt werewolves."_

_"Werewolves?" Not it was obvious amusement that sounded in her voice. "There is no such thing as werewolves." _

_"Said the one who sold her soul to the demon," he returned with the same sarcasm. _

_The girl froze, "What are you talking about?"_

_The man scoffed, looked appraisingly at her and then grabbed his jacket that he threw to the ground before jumping onto the creature. When he bent down the girl had a chance to see a knife tucked behind the waistband of the man's jeans. Its long glass-polished blade winked at her. _

_"You know what I am talking about," he said when he straitened himself. "I can see it. People bound to hell have that special… aura, if you like." He looked up and down the alley and relaxed when haven't spotted anything. "Seen enough of them to know the difference."_

_Of course she knew what he meant. Thought she knew at least. But knew it wasn't true. _

_"No, it was just an accident. Nothing more to it. A coincidence."_

_The man flashed a broad smile at her and his teeth seemed unnaturally white in contrast to his dark chocolate skin. _

_"Sweetheart, do you really think that our greatest wishes come true only because we want them to so much?" The girl didn't say anything. All she could do was stare at him with her eyes wide open. "I don't know your reasons and I'm not sure I want to because, honestly, I don't care. We all make our choices, that's it."_

_The discovery was too big, too unreal, too unexpected to take it in at once. Still, the girl had no reasons to doubt his words. The man knew something that she did not, he was speaking about things she'd never believe in… had she not been attacked by something weird. Besides, why would he lie to her?_

_But… God, did she really do that? Sold her own soul? For real?! And that… red-eyed girl was real, too? She couldn't be! It was crazy! _

_Meanwhile the man, surely unaware of her thoughts, put his jacket back on and waved his hand at her. "Watched your back," was what he said._

_And then he left._

_The girl hesitated for a moment or two and then followed him, carefully, trying not to look at the figure on the ground. Had no wish to even think about dead body at all… but determined to find out the truth now that she came that close to it. Stopped at the door that the man walked into moments before and then pushed it. _

_Small bar that she found herself in was half empty. Being dimly lit with several old-fashioned sconces, it wasn't homey or cozy. Wasn't a type of place one would like to spend every Friday night in. She cast a surreptitious glance at a couple of gloomy-looking men sitting at the table in the corner. But they didn't seem to pay any attention to her appearance or anything else, expect for their drinks and small-voiced conversation. Spotted her savior in opposite corner and headed there, somewhat cautiously. _

_The man raised his eyes when the girl took a seat across from him and stared at him with intense gaze._

_"I want to know what you know," she said with stubborn determination. _

_He inclined his head a little, considering something she had no idea about, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Okay. First, my name's Rufus…"_

It happened nine years ago. She was fifteen then…

It was a probably accidental but all the same pleasantly soft brush of Dean's hand against hers that literary pulled Bela out of her memories. She gave him a questioning look like _"What is it?"_ But Dean only shook his head like _"Nothing"_, with all these feelings written all over his face – fear, and confusion - _I can't believe it, I just can't believe it! We took all possible precautions, made sure everything was friggin' fine! _- and anger, and impatience - because _Why wouldn't that stupid flying box fly a little bit faster?!_ _All damn thing is so freaking slow! _- and desperation, as if his inability to jump into the Impala and rush ahead, swinging his sword over his head, meant that everything was over for Sam. That was probably how Dean was seeing it from hid _older-brother_ point of view…

Something that Bela couldn't quite understand but that she respected.

She bit her lower lip suppressing an impulsive wish to reach her hand out and smooth that deep concerned crease between his brows. Do anything to erase that worry from Dean's eyes but with her thoughts too mixed by memories from the past and, actually, by what was happening in her present, and the prospect of possible and very close death, she could hardly form a meaningful sentence. Instead she lifted up the arm between the seats and inched closer to Dean, let him put his arm around her shoulders allowing them both to have that warm comfort that needed no words to be spoken.

--

When Sam woke up after God knew how long time he had a terrible headache, as if someone blew an A-bomb inside of his scull. His eyelids were so heavy that it took all of his strength to open them up just a little bit. Still, he managed to do it and groaned against himself when dim light hit him right in the eyes like a sharp knife. Wishing he'd die long before that moment, as the pain was overwhelming, Sam looked around, careful enough not to turn his head too abruptly having a vague suspicion that it could fall apart any moment.

He found himself lying on the floor of some kind of a warehouse, or a garage, or maybe a basement. Whatever it was, it was dark and stuffy and smelled of dust, as if on one came in here for ages. The only light – the one that seemed brighter than the sun to him at first – was coming through a small dirty window in the far end of the room.

Confused beyond measure, Sam made an attempt to move but it soon turned out that his hands were tied behind his back. And this stupid dizziness was making him too weak to try and free himself without somebody's help or a knife.

How the hell did he get there in the first place?! The last thing that Sam remembered was a little girl knocking on the door and offering cookies. Then Ruby went to check on her and he decided to call Dean because being stuck in that room started driving him crazy hours ago, making him literary wish for his brother's blood and…

Ruby!

Sam whirled his head around – regretted he did it in a moment as white-hot pain rushed through his entire body – and saw Ruby sitting at the pole, some ten feet away from him. Unconscious most likely, but definitely alive because he could see her chest rise and fall as she breathed. From where he was lying Sam managed to make out a purple bruise on Ruby's forehead and assuming the position of her arms she was tied, too. But all in all she looked fine.

"Ruby!" He called out loud. Well, it was supposed to be loud but clearly came as a whisper out of his dry mouth. "Ruby!"

She moaned painfully and forced her eyes open. Winced. Must have felt the same as he several minutes ago, Sam thought.

"What the hell is this all about?" Ruby mumbled and looked around. Haven't seen much though as her tied arms didn't let her look back. "Where are we?"

"I wish I knew." Sam managed to take an upright position – meaning, he made himself sit and lean against the wall – which was hard. This pain in his head made him feel dizzy. "Ruby…" his eyes grew wide when he focused his eyes on her.

"I do not look that bad," she scoffed and strained herself in an attempt to loosen the ropes on her wrists.

"No, look," Sam waved his head at the floor.

Ruby looked down and around herself, and cursed quietly under her breath. She was sitting right in the middle of a demon's trap drawn on the floor by what looked like chalk and, well, salt. Looked up and saw another trap on the ceiling. Whoever brought them here knew exactly who they were dealing with.

--

Dean pulled the car up in front of an obviously abandoned house with the overgrown front lawn and boarded up windows, and turned the ignition off. Headlights went off immediately as well, together with a steady purr of the engine and the hammering sounds of rock-music, causing uneasy silence all at once. He looked out the window and down the street somewhat expectedly, but it was deserted and quiet. The whole area looked like it died out years ago, which was creepy.

"Stay here," Dean ordered before leaving the car.

And heard passenger's door open and close almost the same moment he was out.

Bela caught up with him halfway across the street, looking anxiously around, arms wrapped around her shoulders, either because of cool air or because the area that looked very much like a ghost town could have made even the steadiest of people feel uneasy.

"I told you to stay in the car," Dean hissed at her.

"And I didn't listen. So what?"

Okay, good point, Dean thought. So what? Decided not to mention such things as safety or common sense in order not to seem overly concerned. Wanted to comment on lack of wish to save one more ass in case of real danger but thought it might sound as an expression of concern, too. Gave her a frustrated glace out of the corner of his eye though. Cuffing her to the door in the car was an option - of course! - but it was an option that might lead to his imminent death some day, or to the urgent necessity to repair the door.

Decided at last that he'd save his own nerves better if she'd stick around because, hell, he was not blind! He knew Bela was expecting to see the damn hellhounds any minute ever since their plane landed and could very well understand her refusal to be left alone.

Tall figure appeared from the darkness as soon as they stepped onto the pavement.

"Dean?"

"Bobby! Thank God!" And he clearly sighed with relief at the sound of a familiar voice. "We came as soon as we could. What is this friggin' place?"

"Bela," Bobby gave her a greeting nod over the Dean's shoulder. And there was something in his eyes… she couldn't make out what exactly but something that definitely shouldn't be there considering the outcome of their previous encounter with her stealing the Colt in the end and leaving the Winchester brothers high and dry. And he somehow didn't seem surprised at all to see her with Dean, which was not right, unless...

"Hello, Bobby."

So, it was Bobby. The realization, clear and obvious, struck her mind like a lightning and made her smile wryly to herself, causing not so pleasant thoughts about losing her grip. She should've guessed long ago that it was him. Who else could it be? He was an old friend of Rufus, wasn't he? The one they used to get to Dean. Bela had to admit that it was smart enough for Rufus… He didn't tell anything to Dean. He told her story to Bobby, being sure as hell that Bobby would tell it to Dean.

Considered a possibility of a slow and painful death for Rufus… Tossed it aside though, and reminded herself to thank him instead.

"You see that house over there?" Bobby poked his finger at the building half a block away from them. "The one that looks like it was built when the dinosaurs ruled the world."

And it was an obvious overestimation, compliment even, Dean thought wondering how the whole construction still hadn't collapsed in the slightest rush of wind. Didn't like the idea of his brother being somewhere in there, too. Demons suddenly seemed like a bad joke in comparison with the prospect of being buried alive under the whole lot of moldering boards.

"Sam's there." Dean peered intensely at the house.

"Yep. Tracked down the signal of his cell phone. Caught even a glimpse of him in there but didn't dare come too close, you know. The place didn't seem so deserted some time ago, and I still have no freaking idea if it is good or bad that it is now."

They kept their voices low as if it was how it was meant to be in the darkness in the empty street. As if they really suspected they could be overheard.

"I don't get it," Dean frowned at Bobby. "Why didn't they kill him right away? Why all this bother?" Chill ran down his spine and an ice-cold hand clenched his stomach. The question came out on its own, before Dean realized _what_ he was asking.

"It's not only Sam they're after, and you know it, Dean. It's the two of you. And presumably you," Bobby gave Bela a long appraising look from head to toe and back to head.

"Charming," she muttered through her teeth. The thought made her shiver.

"They knew you'd come for him no matter what," he finished looking at Dean again.

"Wanted to take us all at once?" Dean chuckled with obvious disgust.

"That's the general idea. They are freaking smart sons of bitches."

"It is usually called a trap," Bela put in.

"Really? Well, thank you then! I would've never guessed it myself," he snorted at her.

"My pleasure," she shrugged.

"Well, I don't care about that crap if Sam's in there." Voice firm and determined, Dean took out the Colt and looked at it with somewhat affection.

"She's right, Dean. It's surely a trap, the place must be surrounded by the whole lot of demons. That's why they are still alive."

"They?"

"Sam and that demon chick."

"Ruby," Dean exchanged puzzled glances with Bela.

"Then let's send these hell bitches to where they belong," he grinned. "Bobby, you go to the back door. And you," he looked at Bela somewhat skeptically, considering one thing or another, and then, "just stay close."

She scoffed and pursed her lips. Rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking and shook her head when Dean gave her _that_ glance over his shoulder as if he saw what she did with the back of his head.

There wasn't any lock on the door when they came up the front steps.

"I don't like it," Bela whispered and reached for her gun.

"I like it even less, sweetheart. Bet the general idea is to let us in and never let us out," Dean replied.

"Cute."

She followed him inside, every floorboard squeaking under their feet, into the pitch-dark hall and down the corridor. Dean's neck – narrow stripe between the collar of his jacket and the line of his hair – was the only light spot before her eyes. This house that seemed to be living on it's own, that empty area – all was so weird and so out of place that Bela simply couldn't make herself start taking it seriously, as if it was nothing more but a decoration to the low-budget horror movie. Not war with demons for sure.

Dean pushed the switch button but the light did not turn on. He looked at the ceiling and hemmed to himself, not really surprised by that.

"Dean," Bela called him in a low whisper and pointed at the door in the far end of the hall when he looked at her. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just her imagination or one of the sounds so common to the old houses, but she thought she heads low voices coming from there. He must have heard them too, his arms strained and his grip on the gun tightened.

The door led to the basement. They found it out as soon as Dean pushed it open. He gestured at Bela to stay quiet and started going down. Bela weighed the possibility of breaking her neck if the staircase collapsed under them but the idea of staying all alone in that hallway with its dark corners and numerous of doors with who knew what behind them seemed not so bright either. She sighed and grabbed the railing with her free hand.

"Sammy?" Dean called out into the darkness once he felt concrete floor under his feet.

"Dean!" The voice came from the corner.

Dean rushed there, carefully avoiding piles of junk on the floor. He paused for half a second near Ruby and muttered, "Holy crap!"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," she sneered. "Care to help?"

"Just give me a second to think if I want to," he smirked and looked up at the ceiling. "Smart," he whistled. "Your faithful knight will be at your feet in a minute," said at last and headed further to Sam. He knelt down near his brother and cut the ropes on his arms with his knife.

"Tell me you know what is this all about, Dean," Sam rubbed his wrists and winced.

"Hoped you'd tell me."

"Your girl over there is in a kind of trouble, Sam," Bela emerged from behind something that must have been a bookshelf, centuries ago, and looked over her shoulder at Ruby. Folded her arms on the chest and gave Sam a meaningful glance after that.

Sam's jaw dropped. Literary. He spun his head at Dean and demanded, "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

"Long story," Dean gave him a _You don't wanna know that_ look and tapped Sam on the shoulder as he helped his brother to his feet. "She's right about Ruby, though."

"I know!" Sam reached out for his head and winced painfully when his fingers found a bump on the back of it. Gave _Man, I swear to God you're a jerk!_ glance to Dean. "You okay?" He asked Ruby and knelt down to cut the ropes on her wrists.

"Do I look like I'm okay?" She snorted.

"Not really," Dean came up to them, too. "Life sucks, huh?"

"Piss off, cowboy," Ruby winced.

It wasn't a problem to break the circle drawn on the floor. The bigger concern was the one on the ceiling. Sam gave a long thoughtful look to Bela's gun, but Dean shook his head when he caught it.

"One board breaks and the whole place is going down." Then he looked at Ruby, "Hey, you know what? Let's leave her here!" Received reproachful glance from Sam and added with his arms raised in _I give up_ gesture, "Kiddin'!"

That was when Ruby noticed the Colt in his hand. Her eyes widened in amazement like it was the greatest wish ever that came true all of a sudden when she'd long lost her hope, and she even opened her mouth to comment on it in one way or the other…

The four of them turned their heads to the squeaky sound of the opening door, and froze at the sight of a little girl standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hello!" She said in a high-pitched, childish voice and smiled. "Now that all of you are here we can finally have a party! It will be the greatest party ever!"

It was creepy. Creeper than anything the four of them had ever seen in their lives. She was speaking with such innocent and sincere delight that one might think that the_ party_ meant afternoon tea with her dolls, plastic tea set and pink knee-high table. Hadn't they known how many people killed the demon that lived in the body of that little girl they'd never believe she was more harmful than any other 10-year old.

"Little bitch," Dean muttered.

The girl giggled. Damn it! He'd rather she was an ugly old broad or something else… ugly! Couldn't make himself see a monster in her even knowing that she was owning his and Bela's souls. It was wrong, it was the way it shouldn't be, not for real.

Dean made a small step forward trying to cover Sam and Bela with his body. Didn't care much for Ruby but, well, she was helping, wasn't she? Sighed to himself, irritated by the sudden outburst of philanthropy or whatever it might be called related to the blond hell bitch. Now that they were all trapped in a basement of an old house in the middle of nowhere it seemed somehow natural. Thought in the back of his mind that Ruby might as well be fired for breaking corporate ethics once they were out of that crap, and smiled to himself. It was easier like that to pretend that nothing was happening, to ignore heavy breath of his brother behind his back and Bela's vibrating energy.

"You're mine now, all of you," the girl said as if she was speaking about birthday presents or something similarly fantastic. "Can we go and play now? I want to play hide-and-seek! You've found me, so now I'm going to look for you for a change, that's the _deal_."

_And here we come_, Bela thought.

"Lilith, right?" Dean cleared his throat, shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, but saved resentful and somewhat condescending grin on his lips all the same.

"Don't tell me you don't want to play with me," she pouted with a frown, suddenly becoming less charming and harmless, dark determination in her voice.

"Something tells me she's not taking _No!_ for an answer." Bela swallowed.

"Something tells me that's the only answer we can offer," Dean hemmed.

"Dean…" she and Sam started at the same time.

"Stay back."

Loud _bang!_ of the shot hung up in the air. Too loud, too unexpected, and so long, as if it lasted not for a second but for eternity. But still it was like a point in the end of the sentence, as firm and indisputable as it could be.

"That was _Wow!,_ Dean," Sam breathed out when the demon fell to the floor right where she was standing, without a sound.

"Rule number one, Sammy, remember?" Dean chuckled, feeling that he started to tremble slightly when the tension he'd been feeling for days finally lessened. "Shoot first, ask questions later. Bet she didn't' expect us to have the Colt back."

"Would somebody please be so kind out get me out of here?!" Ruby bellowed.

"Hey, guys!" Bobby called out for them from the hallway upstairs. "Do you know you have a dead demon here?"

--

Bela came to the counter in the kitchen of her apartment and breathed in bitter smell. What on Earth could be better than fresh coffee in the morning, she wondered with a small smile on her lips. Probably only fresh coffee with some cream and a piece of sugar – was the answer. She reached for the shelf to take a cup… and this was when she felt strong arms slip around her waist and soft lips press to the tender spot between her shoulder and neck. She smiled wider against herself, had an immense wish to giggle out of… something that made her literary melt in his arms.

"Smells good," soft voice informed her in a mumble.

"It is "Chanel", Dean."

"I was speaking about that stuff," he smirked and pointed at the pot.

Bela slapped him playfully on the hand and turned to face him, still trapped between Dean and the counter as he put his arms on the cool surface on each side of her, green eyes peering at her with something that she couldn't make out at once. Like… _amazement_?

"What are you doing here?"

He arched his brows in mock surprise.

"Dropped in to check if you might have some coffee." A matter-of-fact shrug. "Turned out I was not wrong. Lucky guess."

"Coffee?"

Bela folded her arms on the chest and had to bit her lip to hide her smile at the sight of him. Dean seemed somewhat uncomfortable with her question, came up with the lamest answer she'd ever heard. Standing face to face with her, he managed to look anywhere but in her eye. Hadn't it been so amusing, Bela might as well find it insulting. But, well, right at the moment she was curious about his so out of place uneasiness. So not _Dean-Winchester-style_!

"Yeah," as if it was the most natural answer. "Wanted to check on you, too," Dean added looking past her shoulder at – what was it there? A kitchen cabinet? Yeah, the most interesting thing in the whole wide world! "See… how you're doing." Another shrug.

Oh! _O-o-kay_. Like they haven't met for ages! Several hours at most. Didn't expect to see him that soon, Bela admitted to herself. Thought that now that he was out of the deal he'd be off the next moment, music turned on in his car to the deafening volume, with years and years ahead of him, hunting for whatever evil he might find along the way without giving a second look back, literal or figurative.

"Wondered if I …" Dean finally fixed his eyes on her face feeling that his throat became too dry to speak. Cleared it. And then again, like he needed some extra seconds to collect his thoughts. And then flashed his best brilliant smile at her. Not fake, she noted. _The_ smile.

"If you – what?" Bela prompted him. Something in his gaze made her catch her breath in anticipation of an answer.

"If you wouldn't mind I'd come by. You know," he leaned forward and kissed her. And it was so slow and deep and wonderfully sweet… And it sent her head spinning round leaving her breathless, and pretty much thoughtless, too. "For coffee."

"I don't remember letting you in now," Bela reminded him some time later, enjoying the moment. A brief shadow of confusion rushed across his face for just a second and she could've sworn that he blushed. A little bit. God, she _was_ happy! "So, I don't think it would be a big problem for you to drop in any time you like."

"Oh, sure," Dean agreed. "But I'd like to know that you're not going to change the code. It's freaking boring to get around your security system all over again, you see."

His words made Bela laugh as he dropped one more little kiss near the corner of her mouth. "I won't." She slipped her arms around his neck. "Besides, I still didn't have a chance to say thank you."

--

Sam threw another amused look out the window of the Impala and up the apartment building, and shook his head with a chuckle. Rolled down the window to let some fresh air inside, turned on his favorite radio station with something that didn't make him feel like his head was about to blow up any minute and started flipping through web-pages in search for something interesting.

Phone call caught him in the middle of half formed thought about leaving Dean in favor of having a long sleep or a walk to clear up his mind or...

"_Hey there, Sam_," he heard in the receiver.

"Bobby? Hi! What's up?"

"_It's this case I told Dean about_…"

"Yeah, I know. Strange disappearances, no tracks, no clues… Sounds like our job. We're on the way… um, kind of." Sam scratched his nose thoughtfully and shifted his gaze to the laptop monitor with six pictures of missing men and women on it.

"_Well, I have some new information…Where are you?_"

"In Queens," Sam winced. "Dean decided to pay a good-bye visit to his new girlfriend."

"_Queens?_" He could clearly imagine Bobby frowning in misunderstanding. "_Are you talking about Bela? It's not that!_"

Sam gave out a short laugh.

"I wish you heard him, Bobby! That was worth it, really! Fed me some crap about her terrible faults and his wish to rip her head off of her neck for something too shady to get it, and thought I'd buy into it. He was too serious to _be_ serious." The memory made him sneer to himself. "And, what's the most important, if he wanted to keep it secret they shouldn't be kissing right near the window, you know."

He heard Bobby clear his throat, probably out of wish not to laugh out loud.

"Well, anyway, what do you have to tell me?"

"_You better write it down…_"

**The end**

* * *

Didn't mean to be a cruel murdered but, God, wanted to kill Lilith just for once for what she'd done to Bela, forcing her to steal the Colt and then kill Sam. Not to mention Dean's death...


End file.
